He cares. But Henry was always like this, eager to please those around him and earn their affection. Did he measure his worth by how other people saw him? Her throat tightened at the thought. “It’s beautiful, Henry.” She traced her finger over the silk tassels. “Thank you.”
He beamed, the dark chocolate pools of his eyes gleaming as he handed several lire to the vendor and turned back to Ellie, lifting the scarf until the fabric fell open like a blanket. “Will you wear it for me?”
The scarf, while beautiful, was entirely inappropriate for the venue, let alone the heat. But she couldn’t refuse him. Ellie would never refuse him.
Her throat too tight to speak, Ellie nodded and turned, allowing Henry to drape the fabric over her shoulders, his fingertips brushing against her upper arms. In a rush, she remembered the second Christmas they spent together, the night they drank brandy by the fire and shared so much of themselves openly. When he wrapped her cloak around her before they parted for another year.
What would happen after they parted this time?
“Are you hungry still?” she managed as she faced him, wondering if he could read the tension in her shoulders.
His eyes narrowed.Of course he can read me. “Always, but what doyouneed?”
She sighed, letting her eyes drift to a small girl selling flowers alongside a woman with gray-streaked hair that Ellie presumed to be the girl’s grandmother. Ellie swallowed against the ache in her throat, pursing her lips as Henry moved closer, his gaze following hers.
“El,” he murmured, “why won’t you marry again?”
She bit her lip and brought her gaze up, blinking against the sun. “I suffered enough to earn my freedom.”
“Marriage shouldn’t be suffering,” he replied.
“Says the man who speaks of his engagement like an unpleasant boil.”
His expression shuttered as he looked away. “It doesn’t have to be like that. For either of us.”
Ellie held her breath for long enough that her lungs burned before setting off in a brisk stride. “The Palazzo Farnese is just ahead. You’ll like the architecture of the palace,” she tossed over her shoulder, willing her voice to stay calm.
“Ellie, stop,” he called, but she ignored him, winding between the Roman citizens enjoying their morning, completing their daily routines while Ellie’s heart crumbled a bit more around the edges.
His hand caught her elbow as she reached the main avenue, her heart pounding as she turned to face him. “Why would you say something like that?” she snapped.
Henry dropped his hand. “Like what?”
She tossed her head back and groaned in frustration. “Why do you insist on talking about marriage,mymarriage, when you had no interest in it when I wasactually married?”
He put his hands between them as though he feared she would lash out and attack him. Which, given her current mood, was a distinct possibility and therefore justifiable. “I was just wondering, I thought we were talking—”
“You asked me about my marriage when I was looking at achild,” she hissed, her vision blurring with tears.Damn him for making me feel like this.
“I didn’t mean it like that. But it’s clear you want children, so I wondered—”
“Yes, I wanted a family and children to dote on,” she interrupted, cold settling in her chest. “But if I can’t have what I wanted, why go through the hassle of latching myself to someone who only has a passing care for me?”
Henry inhaled roughly, like something was blocking his throat. “But what about companionship? Or lo—”
“I don’t need those things.” Ellie turned toward the street and looked for a gap in the carts and carriages. Finding one, she darted across, shaking her head at how ridiculous she felt literally fleeing this conversation.
Henry caught her at the midpoint in the road, putting his arm around her waist as he guided her the rest of the way, only releasing her when they reached the cobblestones on the other side. “I don’t believe that’s true.”
“Companionship does not need to come from a husband.” She twisted the ends of her scarf between her fingers. “That’s why I’m seeking a lover, remember?”
He recoiled, stepping back from her and rubbing a hand down his face. A flash of guilt hit her just below the cold settling in her chest. Had her words hurt him, and if so, for what reason? Henry knew how she felt about marriage, and she had been upfront with him about taking a lover.
“Please don’t think I am discounting the happiness of your own marriage to Miss Brightling,” she said as realization dawned, stepping back into his reach and taking his hands. It felt so strange to touch the man with whom she had been intimate while discussing the woman he would marry.
But this was all pretend, their marriage, acting as lovers… None of it was real. Except perhaps the longing that burned for him and had been burning for nearly six years now.
Henry shook his head. “I don’t want to discuss my marriage.”
